So a few weeks ago after work, my boss from WEPCo invited me to join her at Jim's - the San Antonio version of "Classic American Diner." I had a small grilled chicken salad with a fried food extravaganza of delectable onion rings and freedom fries. Then I had chocolate smothered cheese cake for dessert. I remember the meal well because it was the last time I would be eating pain-free for quite some time.
Having worked one of my killer 14 hour days, just before midnight I collapsed like a fallen log onto my floor mattress, swiftly reconvening with my friends in Slumber Land.
But at around 4am I awoke from this dead sleep. I had a sudden and most horrible throbbing pain in my lower left jaw! It was so painful that I could hardly stumble about effectively enough to find some Advil. I did not know what it was, but knew that it would have to wait at least until morning to figure out. Perhaps the night would see it go away. After an hour or so when the drugs kicked in, I fell back asleep.
Unfortunately, night time did not make the pain disappear. When I arose from my bed, I was already almost an hour late for work, and still in much pain. Having been raised by a mother who never let me call in sick to school, I instinctually bolted off to my job anyway.
At work, I sat in my cubicle tinkering around some Auto-Cad detail illustration with my hand clenched to the left side of my face. When my boss came by for the daily morning progress report, she noticed there was something very wrong without my uttering a word.
"Ben, you need to go to the dentist. And you need to go NOW!"
This was not what I wanted to hear. You see, I am one of those poor blokes who can't afford insurance, and thus don't have any.
"If there is one thing for sure about tooth pain, its that it doesn't just go away," she reminded me. Deep inside I knew she was right. I did need to see a dentist. "Here Ben, let me get you the number of my doctor. He's really great..."
Before she could even say his name, I had googled dentistas para San Antonio. First on the list was 1-800-dentists, which I dialed immediately. Miraculously, the angel on the other end of the phone was able to find for me a dentist that had an appointment open ASAP and that would take AMEX. All instantaneous - Amazing the world we live in. Really.
Before I new it, I was off to the Northeast side of town for a visit to Dr. Roy Tomlin's office. I could only imagine what night be wrong with the lower left side of my mouth, and worse - how much it was going to set me back.
A few X-rays later and we had a culprit! Apparently the infection beneath molar 18 had been caused by an impacted wisdom tooth lodged against it. Very pleasant, I know. And what Dr. Tomlin explained to me so exuberantly was that he could give me some super antibiotics which would make the pain dissipate in a few days.
Sounds great, I said. That was too good to be true because he then explained that if the wisdom teeth did not come out then the pain would return with a vengeance.
"How long do I have, Doc?" He informed me that I had a six week window once the medication took effect. I discussed payment financing options with the receptionist, and then made some phone calls on my drive back to the office.
I needed to ask my friend Stephanie when would be a good time for her to take care of me for a few days post-surgery. I needed to stop by my retail job and find out when would be a good time to take a few days off for recovery. I needed to call my parents and whine about how much this all just sucked. I could feel them both cringing all the way in Florida when I told them how much four surgical extractions and one restorative job (from the infection on molar 18) were going to cost me. (In case anyone was wondering - roughly $1200 - yikes!)
It turned out that the best time to schedule the surgery was for three weeks later. This was just enough time to encounter every horrifying story you could possibly think of regarding wisdom tooth removal. NO ONE had a pleasant one. And boy did I hear some duzies... Here's a sampling of what I had to look forward to:
"I was so swollen, I was unable to talk for a week."
"Oh my God! It was so bad, I couldn't eat solid food for a month. And I felt like HELL the entire time."
"Afterwards there's just these gaping holes in the back of your mouth. Food kept getting stuck in them. It was bad."
"I got dry socket...which is when one of the holes gets infected after the surgery, and then they have to put plugs of medicated gauze in the little chasm. The medicated gauze... yeah, it tastes like a taxi-cab seat after a sweaty homeless man who urinated on himself sat there. It exudes that flavor constantly! Enjoy."
"I was allergic to the pain medication my dentist prescribed. Um, I was throwing up after the surgery and snapped my stitches!"
But the worst story I heard was: "A year or so after they were removed, I started having unbearable pain all over again. After some X-rays, they realized they had left a part of the root implanted in my gums. And it started growing! It was piercing like a spike through my gums, so freakish!"
The only positive thing anyone could say was: The drugs, keep in mind - the drugs! Just to be sure, I phoned up Dr. Tomlin to make sure he had prescribed some of these magic pills I kept hearing about (and also to make sure they wouldn't cause me to regurgitate and break my stitches.) He assured me the drugs would be quite good (!), even though they were generic versions of the ones I kept hearing about.
By the day of my surgery, I couldn't look forward to it more. Not because of the drugs, but because of the few days off in a row I would enjoy. I had just worked everyday for over two weeks straight and was ready for a vacation. Even though it was to be a potentially painful and swollen/slushy food only/drug-induced vacation. I was going to be horizontal and Lil' Kim from WEPCo brought me an entire bag of bad movies to indulge myself with. I was pretty stoked.
On the morning of my surgery, as instructed I took two little blue pills an hour before Stephanie was to drive me there. The only thing I vaguely remember of the next few hours is that the ipod Patrick lent me, ran out of batteries in the middle of my favorite Radiohead song. I also more distinctly remember that one of the dental assistants clipped on a fluorescent-color-infused "Smile, Jesus Loves You" bracelet (which I've been wearing proudly ever since! Texas is so funny.) And I remember struggling to enunciate during the ride home for Stephanie to put "Tewy Guss" on. I really wanted to listen to Fresh Air with Terry Gross, but my cheeks were pretty chipmunk-like.
When I came to again a few hours later, Stephanie was insisting it was time for Codine and lunch. For your amusement, here is what I looked like:
The spill stain on my shirt was an unsuccessful attempt to drink water. Straws were forbidden due to the sucking action they require. Stupid no-good physics. Here is another good one showing off the new bracelet:
I was pretty hungry...and man, was that an issue. Stephanie did make, and attempted to feed me some spectacular scrambled eggs.
We didn't realize this until after the first couple of bites or so, but I still had gauze in my mouth from the post-op. Stephanie giggles everytime she tells someone about this but only managed to pull one ball of bloody gauze out of my mouth. On the other side, it was missing! She is convinced I swallowed the gauze. I was numb and all, but I don't think so. I didn't sift through my poop or anything, so I suppose it will remain a mystery like Who's buried in Grant's Tomb?
A few hours later I received a flower delivery from my mother - thanks mom. And thanks for everything while I'm at it. She decided to make it all possible, afterall.
So, the whole ordeal didn't turn out so bad. I was talking alot again starting the day of the surgery. I got taken care of well during my pseudo-vacation. I was given an excuse to eat excessive amounts of ice cream. I learned how to make margaritas because carbonated beverages were out of the question. I got prescribed an additional week of codine (to help me sleep through the night) while combating the unfortunate bout of dry socket I picket up. And best of all, I found Jesus!
Only kidding about the Jesus thing. It is quite funny though, eh?
